


The Lion’s Roar

by AlastorGrim



Series: Castle AUs [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Author Gellert Grindelwald, Baby Credence Barebone, Castle AU, Cop Percival Graves, Cop Theseus Scamander, Credence “-_-” Barebone, Crime Drama, Gellert “Let Me Buy You Things” Grindelwald, Grindelwald Likes To Chase, Minor Character Death, Multi, Mystery, Percival “What The Fuck Is Happening” Graves, Theseus Has Issues, Theseus “Don’t Tell Me How To Do My Job” Scamander, terrible flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 16:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlastorGrim/pseuds/AlastorGrim
Summary: A series of murders right out of Gellert Grindelwald’s early crime novels puts suspicion on his shoulders. While Gellert wouldn’t exactly call himself innocent, he’s not so stupid as to recreate his own murders. On the plus side however, the detective on the case, Theseus Scamander, is rather fun to play with.





	The Lion’s Roar

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song The Lion's Roar by First Aid Kit. It speaks to the Theseus in me~

“And without further ado, the mastermind behind the Tom Riddle novels: Gellert Grindelwald!” Mary Ludwig flourished out a hand as the spotlight highlighted across the man currently signing the small of a man’s back.

Blinking, Gellert smirked at the boy and tugged him close to whisper, “Call me when you feel like washing that off, yes?”

He waltzed off towards the stage, where Mary stood with a strained, almost maniac smile. She stepped aside for him to take the podium. Gellert smiled brilliantly over the crowd, the large table stacked with a pyramid of books depicting a dark, glowering man crossed with a wand set just beside him. 

“It is wonderful to be out with you all here tonight to celebrate the publishing of my latest book— Solving A Riddle. It has been such a pleasure to meet some of my loving fanbase here face to face, not to mention getting a chance to speaking with you on a more,” He took a moment to send a wink to the boy who’s hips he’d marred, and grinned. “ _Personal_ level. Given that this is indeed the last installment in the Tom Riddle story, I intend to let this night go out with a bang!” He raised a hand and a loud pop sounded from the upper roof, neon fireworks bursting to being above the building.

“Enjoy the show, everyone!” Gellert called over the abrupt roar of cheers, and made his way off the podium. He let himself be swept up by the crowd, thrown into the midst of hungry women and scantily clad men. His comfort zone.

Eventually, a few glasses of buckwheat later, Mary found her way back into his circle. She tucked herself under his arm with a blinding smile. Under her breath, hissed from between gritted teeth, “You know, they say the mark of a good writer is one who _doesn’t_ kill off his main characters.”

Gellert didn’t look at her, a pleasant smile aimed at the cameras flashing to his left. “And what do you call Shakespeare, my dear?” He retorted lowly. “Besides, Tom’s story was done. His well had run dry.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Mary muttered nastily, with a sweet smile.

“You would wish, would you not, Ludwig.”

“Well, you can’t blame me for being concerned. Word has it that you’re bound by a hard case of writer’s block, Grindelwald. I would _hate_ to have to revoke your advanced payment for a late transcript.”

Gellert jolted and whipped his head down to stare at her over his sunglasses. “Who—?” He stopped himself with a hiss. “Vinda.”

Mary hummed and walked away from him with a flip of her hair. Gellert cursed quietly and went after her. He vehemently wished that her six inch needle heels would snap and she’d break her ankles. “If you don’t have a draft for me in the next two weeks, I’m going to have to ask you to refurbish the company. A shame, since I’m sure you’ve already spent the money.”

He leveled her with an icy glare. “Oh, but I have already repaid the company almost in full. Correct me if I am wrong, but I remember spending it divorcing you—and then on the consequent paying off of the private investigator you had placed on me after the fact.”

Cheeks coloring, Marry clenched her fists and whirled around to face him. The hall they had stalked into was dim and smoky, a couple pawing at each other in the shadows further down. Mary’s chest heaved and she stuck a red, manicured nail into his chest. “Two weeks, Grindelwald.” She hissed. “And then I ruin you.”

“I look forward to it, darling.” He raised an eyebrow with a condescending grin. Pleased vindication curled in his chest as Mary huffed furiously and stomped off. He did not follow her this time. Let the bitch stew.

“Grindelwald!”

“And the masses call,” He murmured into the lip of his glass, an amused smirk on his lips. 

 

•⚔️•

 

Theseus stepped over the caution tape and frowned at the shoddy drawing of a mystic summoning circle on the floor. He shuffled carefully around it to get to the large puddle of blood where the body was sprawled. “Tina?”

“Good morning,” She replied dryly. Tucking her swabs away in their baggies, she stood. “His throat’s been slit, as well as both of his wrist. Male, mid-forties, overweight—from the state of decomposition, I’d say that he’s been dead for about three days.”

Stuck lying in his own blood for three days, in the middle of some half-assed summoning circle, in the basement of an abandoned building made mostly of metal. Straight out of a horror movie.

“Lovely,” Theseus grimaced. “Some kind of ritualistic killing, then?”

“That’s the interesting part,” A familiar voice called from the side door. Percival strode over to them, a file in his hand. “We had a specialist come in, and they can’t identify which religion uses these symbols. If this was a ritual, it was a shitty one.” He gruffed as he handed over the file.

Theseus snatched it and flipped it open. He glanced up just as Abernathy came up behind Percival. “They got an ID on our vic?”

Abernathy pulled a photo from his inner pocket and a ragged wallet from an evidence bag. “Hanson Kleinmen. He works over at the insurance company over on fifth; his boss reported him missing yesterday, saying that he hadn’t shown up for work in a while and he wasn’t answering his phone.”

Looking over the driver’s license, Theseus nodded distractedly and handed them back. He took a step back, brow furrowed. “Hey, does this look familiar to anyone?”

“Nope. I’m pretty sure I’m scarred for life.” Tina chimed in. Percival snorted.

“No, not—” Theseus cut himself off as he studied the scene before him, frustrated. He turned to Percival. “You said the specialist said that they couldn’t match the symbols to a religious practice?” He reaffirmed.

“Yeah. Not even the obscure wiccan ones.” Percival narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Theseus’ eyes widened in realisation. “Because it’s not from a religion,” He breathed. He whirled on the rest of them in excitement. “Hell Hath No Fury!”

All three of them blinked at him. Abernathy frowned. “What?”

Deflating, Theseus rolled his eyes with a huff. “Honestly. Don’t you guys read?” He stalked away from them and pulled out his walkie. “Find the location of a ‘Gellert Grindelwald’. Bring him down to the station—he’s a suspect for murder.”

 

•⚔️•

 

Getting hauled to the NYPD before he’d even had his morning coffee was a rather rude awakening for Gellert, especially the morning after a party. He was still fairly hungover. On the other hand, being manhandled by a hot little ginger number more than made up for it.

“You’ve got quite a rap sheet for a best-selling author, Mr. Grindelwald. Disorderly conduct, resisting arrest, and it says here that you stole a police horse.” Detective Scamander looked at him over the file he was flipping through, unimpressed.

“Borrowed,” Gellert corrected.

“Ah. And you were nude at the time.”

“It was spring.” Gellert replied, as if that explained everything. He smirked at the Detective’s answering glare.

Scamander scowled and slammed a photo onto the table between them. It was a headshot of a pudgy, balding man, clearly at the end of his golden years. “Hanson Kleinmen. Insurance worker for a small firm.”

Tipping his head, Gellert grimaced. “He is...well weighted.”

“He’s dead,” Scamander stated bluntly. “Did you ever meet him? A reading or a sell-out, maybe?” He interrogated.

“Detective, to put it simply, people that look like this man do not show up to my events.”

Undeterred, Scamander whipped out the next photo and placed it, much more gently, in front of him. A blonde woman with a wide, red smile. She reminded him of Mary. “What about her? Zoe Johnson, a social worker—daughter of real estate mogul Larry Johnson.”

Gellert leaned back in his chair and studied the man in front of him critically. He dragged his eyes slowly up Scamander’s form, taking in the hard lines of his torso, the fire in those blue eyes, and the auburn curls draped over them in appreciation. Gellert hummed. “Unlike yours, poppet, faces like hers do not stand out in a crowd. I see hundreds of women with blonde hair and too much makeup every weekend.”

Scamander’s cheeks dusted pink, but his scowl merely deepened. “What a gentleman.”

Waving a hand flippantly, Gellert chuckled. “But of course. So what does this have to do with me?”

“Johnson was found murdered in her apartment a week ago. I didn’t put it together until we saw the Kleinmen crime scene last night.” Scamander set the next photo over the other two a little harder. It was a photo of the same pudgy man, sprawled out in the middle of familiar summoning circle. 

“Hell Hath No Fury,” Gellert exclaimed, wide eyed as he leaned forward interest. Well. This certainly made things more exciting.

“And this is how we found Johnson,” Yet another photo, this one of the blonde woman submerged in a tub of white wine. “Right out of Avarice In Austria.” Scamander folded his hands in front of him, eyes narrowed and accusing.

But Gellert was focused on something else. He glanced up from the photos and raised an eyebrow with a smile. “I seem to have a fan.”

Scamander’s flush darkened, and this time it took him a moment to recenter himself. He shook himself, but his gaze had averted and refused to come back. “Do any of your fans send you letters? Disturbing letters?”

“Sweetness, all of my fanmail is disturbing. Woes of fame, you know,” He grinned. “But you are welcome to sort through it if you think the killer contacted me.” When Scamander raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, he shrugged. “I have a large amount of knowledge in homicidal tendencies. Half the work of a good book is conducive research.” He explained casually.

Those eyes shot back to his, any signs of embarrassment gone. “Sure it is. Then I reckon you won’t mind staying in town for the duration of our investigation.”

“Oh certainly not, Detective,” He purred. “I will be sticking close.”

 

•⚔️•

 

Percival jumped when a large box was slammed onto his desk. Theseus huffed above him and turned back to grab the second box and drop it haphazardly onto his own desk. Abernathy peeked his head out from behind his computer. “What are those?”

Theseus blew out a frustrated breath and hefted out a book from the box. “Grindelwald’s greatest hits. Familiarize yourselves with the murder scenes, I don’t want us missing any.”

Abernathy frowned at the boxes. “Got any on tape?”

Percival picked up the first book on the pile and flipped it open. He raised his eyebrows. “‘From the library of Theseus Scamander’?”

“Shut it, Percy,” Theseus snapped, but he flushed. He jabbed his marker at Abernathy grinning just behind Percival. “And do you have a problem with reading, Abernathy?” When Abernathy just raised his hands in surrender, Theseus huffed and turned back to the whiteboard. “Profiling indicates someone with low intelligence, someone who has, or thinks they have, a personal relationship with our author.” He muttered, brow furrowed.

“Then that’s where we start.” Percival didn’t sound happy about it. He regarded the book in his hand with some distaste.

Theseus snorted and flopped back into his desk chair. He twirled just in time to glimpse evidence bringing into four trashbags full of mail. 

Percival raised an eyebrow. “Is that all Grindelwald’s mail?”

He sent his friend a deadpan look. “His fans love him almost as much as loves himself, it seems,” He turned and raised a hand to catch their attention. “Hey, yeah. Can you take that to briefing, please? Thanks.”

“Did we hear back from the lab?”

“Yes, actually,” Abernathy piped up. “The scene was a negative for DNA and prints, just like Johnson. The dirtbag’s careful.”

“What about Kleinman and Johnson? Any connection?” Theseus tried.

Percival’s lips twitched and he nodded towards the Captain’s office. “Other than your man over there, no.”

Theseus’ head whipped around to gawk at the sight of a familiar head of platinum hair speaking to his Captain with a smarmy smile on his face. “ _What_ is he doing here?”

A noise that sounded suspiciously like stifled laughter escaped Percival’s throat. He smirked at Theseus. “Maybe he likes you.”

With a scowl, Theseus stood and stormed his way over to the Captain’s office. Gellert Grindelwald caught sight of him and smiled. “Detective Scamander.”

“Captain?” Theseus said instead, eyes resolutely on Travers so he didn’t strangle the author right in front of a crowd of witnesses. Not to mention trained police detectives. They already had one murderer to deal with, they didn’t need Theseus adding to the list.

“Mr. Grindelwald here has just offered to help with the investigation,” Travers explained, but he was looking down at the form Grindelwald had handed him.

“Really,” Theseus uttered drily with a subtle glare at Grindelwald. 

“It is the least I can do for the city I love,” Grindelwald cooed, almost mockingly.

Travers made an assenting noise somewhere in the back of his throat, distracted but listening even as he turned to head to an off room. “Considering the nature of the crime scenes, I thought it was a good idea.”

Theseus’ eyes widened. “Sir, can I speak with you in private for a moment?”

“No,” Travers mumbled, walking away with his nose nearly touching the form.

Theseus gaped after him, stunned. A shadow leaned over his shoulder. “I look forward to working with you, Detective,” Grindelwald mused. “I have a feeling that we will get along swimmingly.”

 

•⚔️•

 

“Lab’s got lifts off the letter Abernathy found. But the system is backlogged, so it’ll take at least a week to get back with anything,” Theseus rattled off to Percival. He tensed when he felt his unwelcome guest almost drape himself over his shoulder. “Personal space, please, Mr. Grindelwald.”

“A week?” Grindelwald said, his nose scrunched up in distaste. “Just to run fingerprints?”

“Welcome to reality, superstar,” Theseus replied bluntly.

“You will find, sweetness, that the reason writers write is to _escape_ reality,” Grindelwald mused as he leaned back away from Theseus and punched in a message on his phone. He waited a minute or so, then smiled when it buzzed. Returning the phone that seemed to cost more than Theseus’ apartment to his pocket, Grindelwald hummed. “You should have your prints by the end of the hour.”

“ _What?_ You—” Theseus cut himself off and struggled to reel in his temper. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Mr. Grindelwald, half the officers in this room are waiting for prints. You can’t just cut in line.” 

“Ah, but I just did,” Grindelwald pointed out with a smirk.

Theseus was working very, very hard to make sure he did not add another murder to his case. Considering that he hadn’t bludgeoned Grindelwald with his rotary phone just yet, Theseus would say he was succeeding.

Grindelwald leaned back into his personal space, arms folded on his desk. “Tell me something, sweetness,”

“Would you stop calling me that—”

“Do you ever have any fun? Metaphorically let your hair down? Loosen your belt? A little Cops Gone Wild?”

“You do know I’m wearing a gun?” Theseus deadpanned with a raised eyebrow.

A grin was all he received in reply. Grindelwald tipped his head, gaze curious. “Can I ask you another question?”

Theseus huffed and tried to focus back on his screen. “You just did.”

“Why are you here?” Grindelwald continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Most intelligent, bold men become powerful people. And yet here you sit, chained behind a desk in a declining precinct, holding no more sway than what a bullet can get you. Less than, even. Common street thugs have more leeway, unhindered by the law.”

Blue eyes cut him with a lethal glare. “Not I have any damn say in it. Unhindered by the law my ass.”

Grindelwald’s lips twitched, but his eyes were intent. “So why? Why are you here, Detective Scamander—when you could be so much more?”

Theseus spun in his chair to glare at Grindelwald more effectively. That infuriating grin widened. “I’m here because I fucking work here, Mr. Grindelwald. Why _you’re_ here is a much better question.”

“Also much less interesting,” He admitted with a shrug. He narrowed his eyes in thought, analytical. Searching. “I think you’re here not from lack of ability, but from a freedom of choice. You chose this, did you not? That means that something lead you away from a better, more lucrative path, and down this one. Which leads me to think that something happened. Not to you, no, you are too willful for a trauma victim; but it was someone you cared about very much. Someone hurt them. Killed them. And as if that was not blow enough, they were never caught.”

During the duration of Grindelwald’s deductions, shockingly accurate, Theseus’ hands had flushed white around the arm of his chair. His scathing expression had dropped off his face, leaving something dark and hollow in its place. There was a tense moment of silence, extended far beyond what it seemed to be, before Theseus turned back to his computer.

“Neat trick. But don’t think you know me.”

“I would not dare,” Grindelwald responded with an innocent smile. 

“Scamander.” It was Percival. He glanced between the two of them and settled on Theseus’ face with a quirked brow. “They found another one in midtown. Same MO.”

“I’m on it,” He stood and grabbed his coat. He swung it around his shoulders and avoided Grindelwald’s eyes even as the man stood up and followed him.

Grindelwald eyed his coat for a moment, calculative, but ultimately fell into step beside Theseus. “I wonder which scene they stole this time.”

Theseus glanced at him. “Who said you were coming?”

“I believe I did.”

 

•⚔️•

 

“Stay here, and don’t move. You can observe, but for God's sake, don’t touch anything,” Theseus demanded beneath his breath as they arrived on site.

“Sweet Sadism,” Grindelwald mused as he looked over the woman hooked up from the rafters by her wrists, half-naked and covered in caramel sauce. “I had a fondness for that book. Pity.”

Theseus glared at him and strode off to speak with the board members. “Get her down from there. Tina, you’re up.” He called as he went over to group murmuring in the corner, eyes trained on the body hanging from the rafters. “What have we got?”

Fawley looked down at him. “Heather Sawyer. She lives in the building—maintenance found her like that.”

He whistled and put his hand through his hair. “Can’t be good for business.”

“The owner’s got several tenants trying to back out of contracts now, threatening to sue. He’s not happy about it either; he wants her out of here as soon as possible.”

“I bet,” Theseus chuffed.

Fawley hummed and tipped his head as something caught his eye over Theseus’ shoulder. “Who’s the blond guy talking to Goldstein?”

Theseus whirled around, alarmed, to see that the dumbass had gravitated away from where Theseus hd left him to try and poke and prod at the corpse with Tina. Puffing up like an angry cat, Theseus growled. “Excuse me.”

Tina didn’t seem to be bothered by the chattering author talking at her, if anything she seemed amused, if bewildered. She glanced at Theseus as he stalked over, eyebrow raised. Grindelwald looked up as well and grinned at him.

“I thought I told you to stay over there,” Theseus hissed, irate.

“But I was so lonely, Detective,” He simpered, eyes wide and falsely innocent. “You ran away.”

“Can I talk to you for a second? _Privately?_ ” 

Grindelwald ducked his head in acknowledgement and let Theseus grab his arm and drag him over to a dim corner. He seemed pleased, his grin only growing the more irritated Theseus got. “Something wrong?”

“This is a crime scene, not a day at Disneyland!” Theseus snapped. “If I give you an order, I expect you to obey it.”

“I am afraid the only orders I follow tend to be along the lines of, ‘ _harder_ ’, ‘ _faster_ ’, and ‘ _don’t stop_ ’. You have yet to say any of those to me—though I am sure that will not last long—so forgive me, but I am not inclined.”

Theseus’ blood boiled. He snatched Grindelwald’s coat lapels and yanked him down so he could snarl at his stupid face. “I don’t give two fucks if you’re _inclined_ , you do what I say, when I say it, or you go the fuck home. Do I make myself clear, Grindelwald?”

Up this close, Theseus could see the startling difference between the man’s eyes. Royal blue to deep amber, the contrast bright and highlighted by the sparkling diamond filaments of those pale lashes fluttering over them.

A smirk curled scruff-lined lips. “Oh, yes _sir_ , Detective.”

Theseus blinked, brow furrowed. “Good.” He released Grindelwald’s coat and watched in vindictive satisfaction as he stumbled back at bit.

“Scamander.”

“Yes?” Theseus turned to catch the eye of Abernathy, who was waving his phone around like some sort of light beacon. “What is it?”

“They got a match on the print: Joseph Horn. We got him.”

 

•⚔️•

 

“NYPD, OPEN UP!”

Nobody answered. Casting a glance at Percival, who nodded, Theseus reared back and slammed his foot into the wood beneath the doorknob, the loud _crack_ that followed resonating through the whole apartment. 

The rest of the squad filed in with loud shouts, Theseus, Percival, and Abernathy going in after them when they called clear. Theseus jerked his head to the left, and Percival nodded. He went to duck his head in the rooms to the right, but they were dark and sparse. The main room just had a table in it, colored paper strewn all over it, covered in abstract drawings made in crayon.

“Scamander. I think you should come take a look at this.” Percival called from the other side of the apartment. 

“What is it?” Theseus shouted back even as he slipped his way through armored plates and gun barrels to see what Percival was talking about. He turned the corner and blinked. “Oh.” It was a closet, book sleeves taped to the walls, pages drawn over with crayon and taped to the wall as well.

“Oh my. I am not sure whether to be flattered or disturbed.”

Theseus jolted and turned to stare at Grindelwald, who had somehow appeared in the doorway while they were all examining the shrine. Blue eyes slitted and he hissed, “I told you to stay in the car!”

Grindelwald shrugged, unapologetic. “I have selective hearing.”

“ _Clearly,_ ” Theseus snarled.

“Scamander, over here,” Abernathy chimed. Theseus shoved past Grindelwald with his shoulder down, eliciting a grunt from the taller man. Abernathy was in the main room, holding up a bloody white blouse. “Zoe’s blouse.”

“What’s that in the couch?” Theseus nodded behind Abernathy, took a step forward, only to freeze when a loud thud came from the closet next to the front door. He jerked up his gun and aimed it at the slightly ajar door. With a pointed glance at Abernathy, he made his way towards the door, steps slow and steady. Abernathy drew his gun and backed him up with a nod. 

Theseus planted his boot into the door and sent it crashing open. A person dressed in baggy clothing hunched deeper into the corner of the closet and began to scream. “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET—”

He grabbed a fistful a ratty cloth and hauled the screeching man to his feet. The man was writhing and twisting, his head jerking repetitively like he was trying to hit it against the wall. Theseus yanked him away from the closet and slapped the cuffs on him. “Joseph Horn, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, as anything you say can be used in a court of law.” Theseus recited loudly, to make sure he was heard over Horn’s yelling. Horn didn’t make any indication that he’d heard, continuing to scream and struggle pitifully. Theseus frowned. “Abernathy, take him out to the car. I’ll get evidence to bag the blouse.”

Abernathy hastily came forward and took Horn off his hands, and as soon as he was gone, Theseus turned and barked at the forensics intern to do his damn job and bag the evidence already so they could leave. So agitated was he, that he didn’t even realize that Grindelwald had been following after him until he was halfway down the road and the author finally spoke.

“Something is wrong.”

“Holy—” Theseus yelped and swerved briefly in surprise. He wrenched the wheel back into his lane and heaved a deep breath. “I forgot you were there. You’re not normally so quiet.”

“Something is wrong,” Grindelwald repeated, the slightest of smirks on his lips at Theseus’ blunder.

“What’s wrong?” Theseus’ brow furrowed in confusion.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Grindelwald replied with a pointed glance at Theseus bouncing knee and white-knuckled hands. “You went _Kätzchen Klauen_ on those poor interns back there.”

Theseus pursed his lips, but didn’t answer. The intensity of those heterochromatic eyes on him made his skin crawl. 

Grindelwald shifted his attention from Theseus to the bags in the backseat. “I have a theory.”

A snort. “Why am I not surprised?”

Grindelwald ignored the jab. He steepled his fingers against his chin with a hum. “You do not believe you have arrested the right man. That is why you are so irritated.”

“I never said I didn’t think we had the right guy. Of course we have the right guy,” Theseus said quickly.

“I do not think you have the right man either,” Grindelwald confided easily, as if he had been holding back from saying anything for Theseus’ benefit. “This whole debacle has been much to easy. No reader would buy it.” He sniffed.

“This isn’t one of your books, Grindelwald,” Theseus retorted, annoyed. “In the real world, when you catch a guy standing over a body with a gun, he’s usually the one who did it.”

“Perhaps, but you did not find him standing over a body. You found him huddled in a _closet_ , like he had been shoved in, and the evidence in plain sight. Even you have to admit that it does not make sense.” Grindelwald prodded.

Theseus agreed with him on that—something about this whole case just wasn’t adding up. Not that he’d admit that in front of the bastard.

The rest of the ride was quiet and tense. 

Grindelwald seemed disgruntled when they pulled into the precinct and Theseus merely handed over the evidence bags without another thought. He followed after Theseus when he went to go back to his desk. “Surely you are smarter than this. You know that Horn is not your man and you are going to detain him anyway?”

Theseus rounded on Grindelwald in fury. “ _Don’t_ act like you fucking know me,” He snarled as he backed Grindelwald up to the wall with a finger to the man’s chest. “You may have done that stupid little profiling trick earlier, and you may have been following me around for most of the day, but that doesn’t give you the right to criticize my decisions. Do you think I like this? Do you think I want to go in there and come out with what’s only going to amount to a guilty verdict for a man that I don’t think could have hurt a puppy, let alone a human being? It doesn’t matter what I think, because it’s all speculation with no evidence, because all of the _actual_ evidence is pointing towards Horn!”

Grindelwald was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly stunned at the sudden outburst. Theseus’ chest was heaving, his cheeks flushed and hair disheveled. He took a step back from Grindelwald and let his hand drop, the other coming up to card roughly through messy auburn curls. 

Theseus’ lips thinned, and he turned his head away with a huff. “I have a report to file. Go home, Grindelwald. This case is all but closed.”

There was a thick moment of silence, Theseus stubbornly staring at the floor, before Grindelwald shifted, and walked away. A shaky breath shuddered out of Theseus’ chest, and he glanced up just in time to see Grindelwald push the button for the elevator. Shaking his head, Theseus made his way back to his desk.

In truth, Grindelwald wasn’t all bad. He was annoying and smug and distracting, but not bad. But Theseus was still glad to be rid of him, if only so he didn’t have those piercing eyes constantly judging every move he made. Unconsciously, he skated his fingers along the inside of his coat, traced over the hidden pockets, and was suddenly very aware that it was too small for him.

He already felt judged enough.


End file.
